


Memoirs Of Discretion

by Lenel101



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beautiful, Byronic Heroes & Heroines, Declarations Of Love, Eventual Smut, Existential Crisis, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff and Smut, Growing Up, Imagination, Love at First Sight, Lust at First Sight, My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Passion, Pining, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, True Love, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenel101/pseuds/Lenel101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say opposites attract, so what happens when a girl in the midst of an existential crisis comes face to face with the infamous Noah Steele, known for his hideously big ego and need for constant attention. Two lost, flawed souls learn valuable lessons from one another that eventually leads to a connection so deeply rooted, they could be each others end.</p><p>This story shines light on the injustices of modern day society. It explores the concept of falling in love, and the struggles when you and that person may not be compatible.</p><p>If you are familiar with the idea of Byronic heroes, then this is most definitely a story for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this I had Dominic West in mind as my antagonist, however as I proceeded to write he somehow morphed into Miles Teller. I am very indecisive when it comes to my characters appearances, I have therefore decided to write with the characters being original in personality and name, but I've left the floor open for my readers to choose how the antagonist looks. I've tagged some actors who I feel are particularly attractive, giving you the freedom to enjoy Noah however you may wish to see him. As for the protagonist, why she's you of course :)

**Prologue**

Until that moment my life had been somewhat pragmatic. Without any conscious effort it had drifted into a routine that leaned more towards the desire to survive than to live. It must be understood that it is all too easy to find yourself in this position. It is such a notion that once presented to you, it blind sides you in the most unexpected way, such as on an idle Thursday afternoon whilst making a fresh brew. You are suddenly faced with the idea you have in fact wasted the entirety of your life by basing it around mundane tasks. What’s worse is you can’t remember how you got there, it is a convection that has sucked the life from you so slowly, you weren’t even aware it was happening until it was too late. It’s deeply rooted now, to a point that you even start to wonder what had triggered much an epiphany. The horror is passive, it creeps over your skin and tugs at the pit of your stomach as your brain is flooded with the notion that you have blindly given over you precious youth to the demands of society and methodology.

This happened to me, ironically as I made my initial journey to university. I believe it was the crucible of emotions bubbling up inside me that led to my sudden realisation of my wasted days. One feels what many feel when a transition of this sort is taking place, one of life’s many stepping stones. The clash of fear and excitement is a treacherous debacle. It can often leads to us becoming so concerned with how we would be perceived that we often deter from being perceived at all, or more rightly distort first impressions in order to become more accommodating to expectations.

The moment of realisation struck in a chain of way ward thoughts, I was staring out the car window admiring the beautiful Cambridgeshire countryside, or at least pretending to in a vain attempt to bar the whimsical rants of a mother sending her daughter off too live an independent existence. Her fast-paced bombardment of advice was interrupted by a pixilated version of Chopin’s waltz no. 6 in D-flat minor easing in way into the scene, courtesy of classical fm. The part of me that was engaging in this particular show, was highly amused by how aptly comical the music mirrored my mother’s urgent pleas of decorum.

But I was divided, in this moment I felt like I had swallowed a grenade that had blown my thoughts and emotions sky high, only to have them land fragmented, exposed and spread out as far as the eye could see. Chopin and my mother were in a far off field in the distance, probably being trampled by a heard of sheep and being pecked at by ravens, meanwhile my inevitable anxiety of new beginnings had landed in the forest I could see out the corner of my eye, some had made it to the forest floor, the majority however, was tangled in the web of branches upon its descent. But by far most poignant was the inconsiderate idealisation that had landed slap bang on the car bonnet. Remnants of the intrusion had worked their way up onto the window which the windshield wipers made a petty attempt at trying to eliminate.

This deliberation was a difficult one to ignore, it throbbed in the very core of my mind desperate to make itself known. My curiosity towards it was not speculation but still I seemed to yield to it in a vain attempt to understand it. For this particular commodity was alien to me. It was a foreign body that seemed to have invaded my mind like an infectious disease and yet I gave into it out of temptation to see its effects.

Unfortunately, as expected, the result somewhat mimicked the infamous box which Pandora foolhardily opened. A whole new meaning was brought to the phase ‘my whole life flashed before my eyes’ for that is exactly what happened to me in a brief instant. Though expectation severely outweighed reality, and it is exactly that, that led to such an onset of panic. For what I saw was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a blank canvas with no trace of existence. And yet strangely in that vivid glimpse of oneself, I knew that what I was seeing was my life so far, so empty, so unfulfilled that I was flooded with a sense of dread so cold that I began to shake

I felt a searing hot warmth that snapped me back into reality, I stared now at my mother’s reassuring hand resting gently on my forearm and met her concerned sideways stare.

‘Darling, your shaking is this nerves or is the air conditioning up too high.’

She began to remove her hand to turn down the air conditioning but I captured it with my own and cupped it in a reassuring hold.

‘I’m fine, honestly I skipped lunch because I didn’t have much of an appetite, my blood sugar levels are just low, I’ll make sure to eat something before we starting unpacking the car.’

I gave her one more convincing grin before turning back to the window to watch the fields of green slide past us. Giuseppe Ferlendis’ Oboe Concerto No.1 in F major was introduced to us by David Mellor and my mother and I settled back into our latter engagement of her talking and me half listening.

From what I remember, I spent the remainder of the car journey brooding over my internal anxiety attack. The aftershock had somewhat dispersed, leaving room for more rational thought. I looked back over my life so far, like I often did but this time with a very different perspective. Moments in my life that I had always deemed as eventful, and memorable started to seep into the fabric that was my every day, indistinguishable. Nothing seemed valid anymore, everything was bland and indifferent.

The initial remorse slowly evolved into a determination, a turn of events that was almost as unexpected as the insight itself. It was a determination that I had never felt before, nothing like the ambitions I had experienced in my past such as a first kiss, learning to speak French, or even getting into Cambridge. This determination concerned my soul, it was deeply rooted and more importantly nocturnal until this point. It was a desire to been seen as more than just as a being but as an individual. For the first time I truly realized I had an intimidating amount of power, to change lives, to alter the norm and question the fabrics that hold us together.

By the time we arrived a Pembroke, the over welling sense of duty was bursting at the seams, my need for a more deserving life had completely overridden my fear of alteration and as I got out of the car I looked at the figures around me. Interchangeable from one another I looked wandering who else had unearthed this indescribable awakening. I knew just from looking at them that none shared my new found enthusiasm, they looked processed, almost in a trance, a prisoner within their own selves. A new wave of emotions crashed down on me as I realised that I was alone in my knowledge, this isolated feeling was similar to the stabbing emotion I had felt when viewing the vacuum that was my previous existence, and suddenly a new obligation presented itself.

I must find another to share my burden and when I find them, to never ever let them go.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware this is all a tad complex, and most likely the ramblings of a mad woman, but bare with...

After such a profound existential crisis, one would think that I would be on the straight and narrow, knowing exactly what was required to achieve gratification. And yet such a thing was an enigma in itself. I had been given my mission, my calling if you will, and yet any signs, maps and route details were absent in my ungainly attempt to actually arrive at my required destination. For a year I skirted around the issue aimless, clutching at anything and everything that might help my itch that was proving impossible to scratch. I came to the conclusion quite early on in my quest that my focal issue was my indecisiveness, or more that I found it challenging to pin point where exactly I belonged.

As an unsophisticated and arrogant youth, I at first interpreted this lack of affinity with a sense of entitlement. I truly believed that my struggled stemmed from my superior mind that was too complex for the average creature to comprehend. Looking back now I cringe at this vanity, for it was merely a mechanism my reasoning conjured up in a vain attempt to hide the truth that was in fact the polar opposite. What I was truly feeling at this time was a sense of detachment unable to distinguish my desires from my duty. Gluttony and greed are other reasons I found it so impossible to centralize myself. I quietly frankly wanted too much all at once, what’s more I assumed it would magically happen without any effort on my behalf, I learned the hard way that not everything just falls into place, and most things require effort. 

Upon arriving I threw myself into anything and everything. I had an image of my future self that I was desperate to make reality and therefore got involved in ventures that I would have otherwise avoided. At this point I was less thinking about my own interests, but rather assessing the interests of others for personal gain. I believed I would find the most interesting and eccentric people in social groups that were involved in innovative thinking. I had a very high vivid fantasy of wining and dining reclined on sofas and debating sensual affairs with people of precise grooming rituals and unusual fashion tastes. Alas, my pretentious standards were gravely shattered when these very specific requirements were not met. So I moved on to my next ideal, my future self constantly reforming and distorting as I tried to be all the people I desired at once. 

Over and over again I was disappointed when my needs were not met by other people, and the more and more frustrated I became that I could not find my place among the maddening crowd. My most prominent issue was that I didn’t have anything I was solely passionate about, I loved many things, literature, art, science, culture, I prided myself that my interests and knowledge spanned so many genres, it made me seem more intelligent than I actually was, so people respected my judgment which did nothing to help my distasteful pride at this time. But as for a passion, a solely passion, something my life quite rightly revolved around, that was noticeably absent and the root of all my resentment.

I went through a phase where I suddenly assumed that it was my physical appearance was the key to this futile puzzle. I returned to the second term with an asymmetrical bob, several piercing in a variety of places, a whole new wardrobe that involved Mary Janes , cashmere jumpers, trench coats and a beautifully crafted Fulton umbrella and a new found love for dark, rich lipsticks and beautifully articulated eye liner. For a while the self-confidence I gained from this new image made me feel like I had finally found what was missing but after the initial high wore off, all that was left was the same empty shell, just this time finely decorated. 

So I continued my directionless journey always assuming that what I was missing was a passion of an inanimate nature such as music or Shakespeare. What I didn’t realize at this point was that I had entered this race completely unaware of what it was I was truly after. For as I discovered exactly a year after my first arrival at Cambridge was the answer that was so abruptly handed to me that it was if I had been slapped hard around the face by fate itself for being so blind and ignorant in my search. Though for me the revelation was more terrifying than the pursuit itself. 

Somehow on that first day when my mind was a whirlwind of vigour and drive, the most important, singular thought had been lost in translation. A thought so focal that I must have subconsciously chosen to ignore it out of fear or more rightly refusing to acknowledge it as a contender for independent fulfilment. For the notion that I must find another individual to occupy my troubled conscience in order to smooth it was a degree of trust that I had never been prepared to give away.


	3. Chapter 3

His name was Noah Steele. A ridiculous name for an equally as ridiculous human being. His antics were somewhat famous amongst the colleges and earned him the frivolous nickname ‘The Steeler’. As his badly punned label quite befittingly suggested, this feeble-minded individual seemed to get off on stealing items of value, only to have them show up some time later is degrading and humiliating places.  
I loathed him. 

He represented everything that I despised about the world. A gluttonous, egotistical dictator who prayed on the weak and entertained the masses.

I didn’t actually know him personally, I passed him and his band of brainless Neanderthals in the corridors from time to time, shooting glares of loathing as I went. But these gestures seemed to go straight over his head, the same way the pleas of his victims did. For me Noah Steele was a blatant example of injustice. He was a tormenter that lacked very little empathy and thrived off misery and humiliation. He was always searching for that next high, a way to make the exhilaration of his spree more intense. His search for such a rush often lead to him pushing boundaries and crossing the line to such an extent that at times he was the only one laughing. But of course the bastard never got punished for his crimes, because as I discovered early on is that university is as inbred and unjust as the rest of goddam society. Pembroke College was a mere microcosm of a hierarchy that had existed since Homeo Sapiens first worked out how to throw a spear.

Noah’s father was a big shot business man, still to this day I’m not sure what it was he did, all I know is that just from looking at him you know the money is dirty and the company corrupt. The college constantly turned a blind eye to Noah’s tomfoolery the moment his father waved a check book in front of their eyes like a hypnotist’s pocket watch. Pembroke discreetly accepts the money, Noah continues on his war path.

Of course this was not the only issue a large proportion of the problem was his fame amongst his fellow students. The sheer fact that I knew about his escapades merely hours after he had succeeded in tormenting another individual expresses what a vital role ‘The audience’ had in feeding his rather nauseating ego. For many of these cretinous twats, who were meant to be the greatest minds of our generation, they were as easily entertained by such obscene behaviour as they were by their own shadows. It infuriated me to no end that they endorsed such demeanour. Every time one of my simple-minded comrades came rushing to tell me of his latest addition to his hall of humiliation I wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake some much needed sense into them.

‘I mean it’s just awful, absolutely awful.’ My dear roommate announced.  
‘I meant usually I find his gags hilarious but this time he went too far.’ She paced up and down the room shaking her head.  
‘I mean were does he get off on doing that to another person, everyone’s saying that this time he went too far. ‘She whipped her phone out of her pocket and started to text furiously.  
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, knowing full well the content of her reply.  
‘I’m messaging Amy, she back tonight and I’m going to catch her up before she arrives.’  
‘Stop.’ I said sternly.  
She looked up from her phone blinking furiously at me ‘what? Why?’  
‘Don’t you see you’re feeding it, you’re feeding the monster that is Noah Steele’s fucking ego.’  
‘No I’m not!’ she replied, huffing. ‘Like I said everyone is talking negatively about him now, he finally went too far.’  
‘All publicity is good publicity’ I mumbled but it fell on deaf ears as she continued to attack her phone with the news of the day.  
And so it continued. People weren’t concerned with whether what Noah was doing was right or not, good or bad, it was something to talk about and for that they were grateful.

I believe it was Marie Curie who so rightly said ‘Be less curious about people and more curious about ideas.’ A concept more easily said that done in reality. For people were like animals, hungry for the hunt, lusting for the kill. In many ways the high Noah Steele got from committing such acts of terror rippled through the community, feeding anyone and everyone who was willing to lend an ear to the latest tales of woe, each getting a sadistic kick out of the misery of others. And yet no one was willing to admit it.  
Noah Steele was a creation of the people, and I was set on destroying him.


End file.
